Mercy
by agirlmustwrite
Summary: The five times Arya Stark and Jaqen H'ghar showed each other mercy, and the one time a girl showed no mercy.


She was the first to show mercy. The first to begin this little game they had. But at the time, she had not known it would lead to that. At the time, she was very conflicted. On whether to let the man burn or not.

He infuriated her. With his Lorathi accent, his maddening use of the third person and knowing smirk mocking her, calling her "lovely boy" as he tried to coax help out of her. To use her in for his escape. She almost laughed the first time he tried to "charm" her. She had been mocked for her appearance multiple times, but no one had dubbed "Arya Horseface" as lovely before. It was a new level of insult, and she nearly wanted to strangle him when she realized he was addressing her.

What infuriated her more was the fact that his eyes held no lie when he told her that. They held nothing at all. they were bright, sure, but they were almost dead as he asked for water.

But now they were pleading as he stared at her, silently begging for her to help him from the burning cage. She threw him a glance before leaving him. If he got out or not, it was not her concern. If anything it would be a lot more weight off her shoulders. One more liar in the world.

Bit as he continued to stare at her with those pleading eyes, something else came to her gut. And before she could conjure a single reason why she shouldn't, she gave him the axe through the bars. She looked at him one last time as she completed the form first act of mercy, and ran off. Not aware of the chain of events she just set off.

2.

The first time a man offered a girl mercy was not when he offered her the names. That was out of duty to the Many Faced God. They had stolen three names from the Many Faced God, they had to replace them.

No, the first time he showed a girl true mercy was when he gave her the coin. A girl was gifted, had so much potential. But a girl had so many names on her lips. A girl clung to her past too fiercely. She would never become no one.

But in truth, a man didn't want her to become no one. Arya Stark was some one. Someone who could far surpass any faceless assassin. Surpass him. The Many Faced God could have use for her, but he would never own her. Arya Stark was too fierce, a she-wolf in the form of a girl. She would not survive well in this world.

"If a girl wishes to find me, give any man from Braavos this coin and say these words: Valar Morghulis."

"Valar Morghulis," she repeated, and he felt his hope grow.

A girl would not survive, not without help. Not without this act of mercy. And he knew he'd see her at the doors soon enough.

3.

The second time he showed her mercy, it was behind those monochrome doors. A girl had disobeyed the Many Faced God, abused the words, abused his teachings. He knew she would, he knew she would, for she was Arya Stark, and Arya Stark would never be no one. She'd never be merely a girl, as he was merely a man.

But as the Waif had her arms pinned, dragging her to him, a man felt something that a no one should not feel. He had felt it the moment a girl came back with the faces she used to carry out her revenge. Anger. Betrayal. Not towards a man's god, but to himself. She betrayed everything he taught her, everything he offered to help her. And she threw it in his face, threw the help he offered a pathetic girl who was wasting her talents right back at him, calling him all manners of indignities and called his aid "stupid games."

The only game a man had been playing was mercy, and he was done playing it.

He opened the bike contain the poison, and the Waif please pursed a girl's lips open, and a girl stared up at a man. Her eyes, so fierce, so full of hatred, were wide with terror, and she looked up at him. She pleaded silently, much like a man had done many a moon ago.

Though he did not let it show, a man made a decision he hoped he would not regret. He tilted the vial to his mouth and drank. As a girl gasped at him in horror, he prayed this act of mercy would not be wasted.

4.

"The Many Faced God has given a girl a second chance."

Arya saw no truth in that, but held her tongue. If she were to truly be no one, thought like those would have to perish. But she couldn't help but feel as if that was merely a facade.

Had the Many Faced God truly given her a second chance, then why did the Waif continue to treat her like a piece of shit? Had it truly been the will of their god, the Waif would've ended her abuse.

'No, it was not truly the will of the many Faced God,' she thought as he continued his explanation of the founding of the Faceless Assassins. She contained a smirk.

'Just the mercy of a friend.'

5.

She was feral, murder blazing through her veins as she pressed Needle against the clothed heart of the the man she once called friend. He sent a fucking mad woman to finish her off, and he had the audacity to look surprised as she twirled needle ever so slightly into the fabric of his robe. What disgusted her most was the sound of satisfaction in his voice when he said,

"Finally a girl has become no one."

She kept her anger steady though. He had taught her that much. And by the seven was she going to use it. She is not no one.

"A girl is Arya Stark of Winterfell. And I'm going home."

He looked at her at what she assumed was disappointment, and she pressed the blade harder against his chest. She looked him in the eyes, and almost freaked back. They held surprise, yes, but also a hint of pride. She stared at them for a moment, before lowering her blade in a swift stroke, and stalker out of the building.

She had a list to finish, she couldn't waste her time killing the less important wrong doers. He could wait, and so she left her once friend in the wave of her last true act of mercy.

+1

"A girl spoke the words?"

A girl had her back turned, only the dying candle illuminating the room. A girl had her back turned as she sat cross legged on the cold floors of Winterfell, her tiny blade sat next to her untouched. But the threat was still there.

"I did," she stated, and a man approached her more closely.

"Then say the name, and it shall be done."

The girl turned around, and the first thing that a man noticed was how much her eyes changed. They still held the steel, but no longer the fiery hatred. Her eyes were cold, like the North itself, and he was suddenly stricken by how long it had been before he gazed upon a lovely girl's face.

Though he couldn't rightfully call her a girl anymore, she was a woman only thing that remains of a girl's childhood appearance was her almost masterfully side glare.

"I finished my list, you know?"

A man was not expecting that response, but he couldn't say he was surprised she did.

"The Lannisters, the Frey's, the Bolton's, The Mountain, the Red Woman. All of them are gone. My sister and cousin hold the North, The Dragon Queen holds the South, all is almost done."

A man raised an eyebrow. "What more is there to be done?"

"I added a name to my list."

A man was genuinely confused. But the look Arya Stark gave him told him exactly who it was, and he prepared himself. He knew this day was coming. It was only a matter of time before she spoke his own.

"A girl still lacks honor," he sighed. "Speak the name and it shall be done."

"It's not your name, Jaqen."

A man looked up at Arya Stark in shock. "Then what other name-." But the look she gave him told him everything, and he paled.

"You didn't have a problem with it before, so don't go blanching on me," the she-wolf said, only furthering his horror.

"A man knew that it would never end up like that. A man knew that it would be **her** face added to the wall."

"You can't expect me to buy that bullshit," a girl snarled before sighing. "My purpose is done, Jaqen. My family's avenged, my brothers and sister's safe and happy. I've tied up all loose ends but this one. Please, I know I don't deserve it, but I need your help with this."

"A man will not get I through with this."

"I said the bloody words, so you're going to kill whichever fucking name I give you!"

A girl trembled in anger, her fist quaking as she whispered out, "Please. Just let me give you this one act of mercy, and I'll be out if your hair for good."

A man looked down at the girl. The girl who was always a girl who became a boy and then a girl again. The girl who saved him, who he killed three people for, who he promised she could kill every single name on her list. Who he had been so merciful to and who in return offered mercy. A girl he had grown to be proud of. And he whispered.

"Speak the name."

"Arya Stark."

He nodded, before beginning to pull out his blade, and she stopped him. A small flicker of hope flickered in a man's heart. That she would ask to be unnamed. But she merely handed him her blade.

"Use this. I think it's more appropriate."

He glanced at the blade and twirled it. Do small, thin and lethal. Much like it's master. He buried that down, and she looked up at him in anticipation.

"A man will make this quick."

Arya nodded, before she raised an eyebrow. "How do you think my face will look in the hall?"

'It shouldn't be in the hall' is what he wanted to say, but all that came out was "It'll be the loveliest face in the hall, lovely girl."

She snorted. "Yeah right. Just make sure I'm near some family members."

A man nodded and unsheathed the blade.

"Jaqen?"

"...Yes, Arya Stark?"

"I'm sorry, and thank you."

The third time a girl had offered mercy was not mercy at all. She thought her death would offer some reconciliation for all the wrongs she did to the world, to a man. She thought she was offering him the mercy of being rid of another problem. Instead she offered him the torture of killing his friend.


End file.
